If Today Was Your Last Day ft John O'Callaghan
by TheBeehive
Summary: The Maine.
1. Chapter 1

All my life, I've always tried to follow my dreams. I'd live to chase them down but there were always certain instances that made me turn my back on them and move on. My mother was one of those reasons. They never let me do what I want. They think that since they're successful, I should go and follow in their footsteps and become a younger version of who they are now.

Now, I know that it doesn't sound that bad – or maybe it does – but I don't want to live my life knowing I could've been doing something that I loved instead of having to put on a strong face all the time. I can't just get by with a synthetic smile plastered on my face all the time. I want that chance to be real – to be that someone who I've always dreamed to be.

"You're doing no such thing," said my mother right after I asked her if I could take up music instead of law for college. "You were given the gift of intellect and intelligence and I simply cannot let you waste that."

"But mother, I don't want to spend eight more years of my life sitting in a classroom studying!" I whined aloud.

We were having breakfast at the backyard of my deceased father's mansion. It was a routine thing where we were supposed to 'bond' and tell each other everything. But we never even talked while we ate. I didn't want to because I knew that I'd only get shut down in the end and also because I know she doesn't care about what happens in my life.

"Am I your mother or not?" she reprimanded, putting down her cup of tea.

The sound of the sprinklers sprinkling water over her massive garden seemed to be the only things making a sound. I looked around and saw that all of my mother's help had stopped working to watch the scene unfold right before them.

"I don't even know anymore," I muttered to myself as I pushed my chair back roughly and ran back up to my room. My mother didn't even bother to follow after me.

I shut my bedroom door harshly as I crawled into my bed and cried. The only thing I wanted was my father to come in and comfort me but I knew that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. He died a few years ago due to a heart attack.

The reason behind it was that he and my mom fought on a day-to-day basis but no one knew that his heart palpitated while they fought. Not I, not my sister and definitely not my mother because she never notices anything. You can take away the priciest accessory from her jewelry box and she'll never know because she simply doesn't care. She's the kind of person who goes with the flow and tries to keep up with the latest trends. Other things that are worthless to her, she throws away. I hated her for being so materialistic. She never even spent any time with her family because all she did with her life was work and shop. Sometimes, I wonder how she gave birth and raised two children. Did she even want children? I've never seen my mother care about anything that my sister and I have done for her. She never even takes time to ask us how our day was or anything like that because she's always too busy.

My sister's lucky she got out of this hell hole two years ago. She took up medicine, became a doctor and she married this really great guy in Europe. Sure, she visits every now and then but at least she can escape and live with her husband in London instead of having to put up with our mother. After our father died though, I saw her less and less. We still sent e-mails back and forth but those were just never enough.

I didn't realize that my phone had been buzzing until I started to calm down. I grabbed it from my bedside table and saw that John – my best friend – had been trying to reach me. I bit my lip as I contemplated on whether calling him now would be a good idea. Before I could even decide, my screen lit up again.

"Hello?" I said into the phone trying my hardest not to make my voice sound hoarse and croaky.

"Uh, have you been crying?" he asked almost instantly.

"It's nothing really."

I took in a deep breath as I tried to make my lungs stop hurting. My lungs have been burning inside for so long now and I really don't know why. I didn't smoke or do drugs. I was a completely clean person. I haven't gone to the doctor because I didn't really want to enter clinics or hospitals. I didn't want to remember that place where my dad suffered and eventually shrivelled up and died. It was just too much for me.

"Is your mother still at home?" he asked but it only made my head heat up more. I really didn't want to talk about that woman.

"I don't know," I coughed feeling something liquid rising up my throat. It tasted weird – like blood.

I coughed to no end until I got up from my bed and went into the bathroom. I hunched down right in front of the toilet and let out whatever wanted to come out.

I watched as blood splattered all over the toilet bowl as I coughed and wheezed. The sight of it made me even sicker and so I hurled everything I had for breakfast into the blood-filled bowl.

"Aubrey? What the fuck is going on? I can practically hear you puking your guts out!" John screamed on the other line. I couldn't talk or stop myself from gagging. I hung up on him and threw my phone to the side.

After vomiting, I felt really tired. It felt like the whole world was spinning. I tried to stand up to flush the toilet but then a wave of dizziness hit me and made me stay in place for about ten seconds. When I regained composure, I flushed the toilet and splashed my face with water and brushed my teeth.

Once I felt clean enough, I climbed back in my bed in hopes of getting some rest. A quick nap would probably do. But as soon as I shut my eyes and rolled to my side, my door swung open wide and somebody rushed into my room.

I looked to the side sloppily to see who came in. John O'Callaghan stared at me as if he'd never seen me before. He ran a hand through his brown hair and made his way over to my bed with the most anxious look on his face.

"You're mom's not here anymore," he told me and I rolled my eyes.

"John, I don't care if she's here or not."

"What happened today?" he asked tucking my hair behind my ear.

"I tried to talk her into changing her mind about my college plans," I said sitting up straight. "She didn't agree because she thought music was a waste of intellect and intelligence or whatever."

John stayed quiet as he thought about something to say. But since I was an impatient person, I sighed and did a few breathing exercises. My lungs acted up like this all the time but usually, a few inhales and exhales would set it right again. Today was different though. It hurt a lot more than usual.

"Are you, by any chance, going through this dark phase where you deal with it in a really negative way?" he asked all of a sudden, catching my full attention.

"What're you trying to say exactly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. There was never an awkward moment between us but again, today was different.

"Are you…anorexic?" he asked hesitantly.

All I could do was laugh. Really? I mean I might be self-conscious but I wasn't that crazy about my weight. Besides, I've dropping weight since – wait a minute, was that why he was asking? I knew I was shedding some pounds by doing exactly nothing but then again, I wasn't really eating as much anymore due to appetite loss. But I wasn't purging or anything like that.

"John, I'm not anorexic. I guess I'm just one of those girls who have those really fast metabolisms."

"Um, I don't mean to offend you in any way, but the last I checked, you were a little chubby when we were younger," he said with a full out poker face.

"Fine, let me rephrase my statement: Maybe I'm one of those girls who magically developed a fast metabolism."

"Aubrey, I don't want you lying to me."

"I'm not lying! How could you even think that, John? We tell each other everything and we don't hide things from each other, remember?" I was getting a little furious and I wasn't planning on toning it down. I mean I've known him for so long and this very moment was the only time he doubted me. Why was everyone so against me today?

"I didn't mean to make you angry. I just wanted to make sure that _you_ remembered what you just stated."

I blew out a huge breath as I tried to calm down but even my body was playing against me. My lungs ached and the tasted of blood was still stuck in my throat. I knew that I had to get checked up but I just don't want to bring up bad memories.

"So if you're not anorexic then what happened right before you hung up on me?" I knew he was a little hurt or maybe really hurt. I never snapped at him like that for petty reasons. I felt really guilty for doing it.

"I coughed up a little blood, okay? And eventually, breakfast came out as well. But I didn't let it out intentionally. I just felt sick," I said lying back down on my bed.

"Do you know how bad that sounds?"

"Yeah," I answered nonchalantly.

"Then why are you being so calm about it? We need to get you checked out in a clinic."

"John, I already told you that I hate-"

"Your life is at risk here! Do you know what will happen if you don't go to a doctor to see what this is about? You'll get worse that small amount of blood might turn into a whole bucket of it! You'll be hurling everything in your whole body! Oh, and I didn't ask if you wanted to go get checked out. I'm telling you to get checked out."

That outburst got me quiet. I have never seen him angry like that and what made me feel even worse was that he was angry at me. The way he reprimanded me reminded me of how much he really cared. I didn't want to disappoint him so I decided to do the right thing.

"Fine, I'll go. But only on one condition: you have to come with me."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said with that charming smile of his. He always knew what to say and I was glad to have a brotherly best friend like him.


	2. Chapter 2

We entered the parking lot of the clinic and I was shaking like crazy. I was nervous and I wasn't sure of what to do. I was thinking about hailing a cab home right when I got out of the car but if I did that, John would probably ignore me for the rest of my life and eventually forget about me and I didn't want that.

"Look, the clinic is not such a scary place," he told me as he placed a hand on top of mine.

I looked at him from the passenger seat as he killed the engine. I bit my lip as I followed him out of the car. He grabbed my hand and dragged me behind him, knowing that I wouldn't walk myself into the clinic. The feeling of his hand in mine made me feel safer but I still didn't have the courage to face doctors or nurses.

Once we got into the building, we made our way to the receptionist. It was funny how there weren't a lot of people in the clinic today. I thought people came here all the time. But then again, they could all be scared like me.

"Let me guess, she's pregnant, huh?" the receptionist said.

John looked at me and laughed awkwardly as he watched me blush really hard. I cleared my throat as I looked down embarrassed.

"Um, we're actually here to check on her lungs," John told the rude receptionist whose name was Betty.

"Oh, my bad," Betty mentioned. "Just fill in these forms." She handed us a clipboard with a paper attached to it. John handed me the pen that was on the side and I started signing.

I couldn't help but laugh as I watched John and Betty flirt by starting each other down. It was awkward and downright funny. The uneasiness suddenly started fluttering away. I was starting to feel better already but that was no reason to back out and tell John that maybe I didn't need this anymore.

I handed Betty the form as soon as I signed everything that I needed to answer and she asked me to wait a while. We sat in the ward they had set up right in front of the desk and I wondered how long it would take for them to prepare the examination I needed.

"She seems to like you," I mentioned to John who was rather silent as he sat in his seat.

"You mean the receptionist? Please, I have better taste."

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes at him.

"Aubrey Laurent?" a guy dressed in scrubs called out.

I stood up slowly and looked back at John before gaining the courage to go in alone. The examination room they put me in was small. There were charts all around and there was this weird machine on the side. The guy – who I guess was a trained specialist – asked me to sit down on the table for a while.

"So, have you experienced any difficulty in breathing?" he asked switching on a few things.

"Yeah, I've experienced a lot of that for a while now."

"And you never bothered to get checked?" he asked. I just shook my head. He wrote some things on a clipboard which I guess was the one I wrote on and continued with the questioning. "How about coughing?"

"Lately, I've been coughing a lot and whenever I swallow, my throat hurts."

"It says here that you coughed up blood today. Is this the first time?"

"Uh, yeah, it is."

"Well, let's get your chest examined then. Please step into the dressing room and change into the robe you see hanging on the hook."

I did as he instructed and came out after a few seconds. He made me press against this machine he called a chest radiograph and told me to breathe in heavily. A heavy, yellow light switched on and then off again in a matter of seconds. Once that was done, the doctor told me to change back into my clothes.

I didn't really understand what was going on but I guess I shouldn't be complaining. I mean the examination didn't hurt and there were no needles involved. After changing, I went out of the room and saw John talking to someone on the phone by the door. I didn't bother to check on him. I just went straight to the receptionist.

"How soon 'til we get the results?" I asked Betty who was filing her nails.

"About an hour or so," she informed me and I nodded my thanks.

I walked over to John as soon as he put down his phone. He gave me a big hug before asking me how it went.

"I don't really understand what happened," I told him as we walked out of the clinic together.

"What did the doctor say about your condition?" he asked inquisitively.

"Nothing yet," I told him. "The results don't come out until twelve – which is an hour from now."

"So where do you wanna go?" he asked as we got into his car.

The day was hot but I wasn't that hungry yet. So I told him I wanted to just walk around in the strip mall we passed by earlier. He said nothing more after that. He just drove and listened to the radio blasting some mainstream pop song.

"Why are you being so silent?" I asked him as we got out of the car.

"I am? Well, I guess I didn't notice," he said as we walked by some shops.

"Whatever," I said. "I wanna go to the arcade and play all day."

He looked at me like I was out of my mind but decided to tag along since there was nothing better to do. He didn't like shopping with me and I didn't want to make him suffer.

John and I revisited the place where we used to spend most of our childhood days in. There was this arcade known for having really old, washed-up games that nobody ever played anymore. I remember beating him at everything and he told me that today, he'd get back at me since all he did was let me win before.

"Oh please, you just can't accept the fact that you got beat up by a girl in each and every game you played here," I taunted as we played a game of foosball.

"You know what you would've done if I didn't make you win?" he asked as I struck the ball and placed it in his goal earning a point.

"What could I possibly have done, Mr. O'Callaghan?" I asked as he placed the ball back in the field.

"You would've cried all the way home!" he said placing the ball in the goal of my side earning a point for himself.

"You're getting good at this. Have you been practicing?" I asked and he rolled his eyes.

The rest of the hour went by somewhat like that. We had so much fun just taking a trip down memory lane. We played more games where I made him accept the fact that I was indeed better than him. He would eventually take it back in the end but it never really went on long since I had a winning streak and he had nothing.

An hour passed and we ran out of tokens. We got out of the arcade all tired and sweaty but I came out victorious so I still managed to keep a fine amount of energy.

"Where do you wanna eat?" he asked, catching me off guard. I totally forgot how it was about time for lunch but I wasn't hungry at all.

"Um, anywhere's fine with me. You pick," I told him and he smiled.

He brought me to Taco Bell and ordered a whole lot of food. I thought that he was already ordering for both of us but it turns out he was actually just getting the food for himself.

"What are you getting?" he asked, turning to me.

"I'll get a Fresco Chicken Soft Taco and a Strawberry Frutista Freeze," I told the cashier.

"Is that all ma'am?" he asked politely as I nodded.

I looked around avoiding John's gaze as he paid for our order. I told him I'd pay for my share but he told me that I didn't need to. He always made me pay for my share. I wondered what was up with him and why he was being so different but I didn't want to sound rude so I didn't ask him up front.

We grabbed a table by the window and laid our trays right in front of us. John started stuffing food into his mouth. He was either hungry or avoiding conversation.

I waited for him to drink from his cup before starting a conversation. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he countered.

"What I mean is that you're acting differently today. Why is that?" I watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Well, I guess I'm just really scared you know."

"You don't have to be. I'm perfectly fine," I told him with a smile but he hardly returned it.

John kept the silence untouched between us. After we finished eating, we left and drove back to the clinic to get my results. For some reason, I wasn't that scared anymore. It felt like a lifetime ago where I refused to go to clinics or hospitals due to the trauma that came over me after my dad passed away. I was glad I wasn't scared anymore. At least I could say that I was one percent braver than I used to be.

We walked back in the clinic and noticed that Betty's smile fell when she saw us come in. I wondered why that was but it wasn't long before the same guy who examined me about an hour ago saw me and called me into the examination room. John was allowed to come in so he came along.

"I have some really bad news for you, Ms, Laurent. Your X-ray results show that there's a tumor growing at the side of your right lung. The cancer cells in your body are spreading fast and we have diagnosed you with stage IV lung cancer. You should've reported your illness right away. It could've been controlled treated."

I literally stopped breathing for a while as I took in everything that he just said. I stared at the picture of my lungs in the room as I tried to understand exactly what was happening. I can't have cancer. I can't go through more examinations on a regular basis. I wished hard that he was joking and that he was just scaring me. But I knew that he wasn't. My right lung looked ugly compared to my left and knowing that that was actually in me made me feel nauseous.

John's eyes filled with tears when he saw this but he didn't speak. He didn't want to show his weakness. He wanted to show me that he was strong like he always was but I knew he was breaking at the seams.

I mouthed an 'it's gonna be fine' to him but he just shook his head at me and looked at the floor.

"Now, here's your prescription for the painkillers you'll need to ease the pain. You can claim these at the small pharmacy we have right beside the booth where you find the receptionist. Also, I have assigned you to an oncologist. Please see him as soon as you get the drugs," the doctor told me with a hopeful smile but I was far from feeling any hope.

I nodded slowly at the doctor and went out of the room after retrieving the prescription. Tears flowed out of my eyes as I approached the pharmacist. I guess news here spreads like wildfire because everyone was giving me sympathetic looks.

John kept talking to the doctor for some reason but I could interrupt because Betty led me to the oncologist's office to discuss my options.

Dr. Guillard, the oncologist, lectured me about radiation therapy and chemotherapy but I've watched too many movies to know that those things were complete bullshit so instead of making her waste more time by talking about other treatments, I asked her how long before my lungs would give in.

"Well, you have at least 3 weeks," she told me with the straightest face I think anyone has ever made. It scared me how blank her face was. It was as if she had no feelings at all. But at least she still treated me like a normal person.

"Thanks, doc," I said feeling like Bugs Bunny but even I didn't seem to amuse myself anymore.

I was going to die in three weeks. What was I supposed to do now?


	3. Chapter 3

Once my mother knew about my condition, she went ballistic. She started asking if I did drugs or smoked or did things I wasn't supposed to. I told her that I did none of that crap but she didn't believe me. I wasn't surprised. She never blamed herself for anything. What she didn't know though, was that this was all her fault. If she hadn't brought my sister and I along for her late night poker games with those other rich-ass families, I never would've sucked in so much fumes. The smoke that came out from each tobacco in the room practically fogged up the whole vicinity and I always smelled like smoke the moment I came back home. She brought us in every Saturday and Sunday since I was six. My sister never stayed in the room since she stayed with the other kids in the other room. I never got to play with them because they always thought I wasn't cool. My sister didn't care because she always wanted to feel accepted and she hated my guts. But as we grew older, we became more mature and she learned to care for me and stand up for me when she needed to.

When my mother stopped going to late night poker games, she started smoking wildly in her bathroom while she was supposed to take a bath. The negative thing about this was that our bathrooms were right beside each other and her bathroom wasn't ventilated. The smoke just went out her window and diffused into my room. The smoke was always so strong that it burned my lungs. I prayed that one day she'd eventually stop but that day never came.

The only person I told this to was my doctor and she told me that she was going to speak to my mother about it but right when she did, my mother scolded me for making the doctors' think that she was a bad mother – which of course was evident in the way she raised me but she was too full of herself to admit it. She always thinks that she's got everything right.

Days passed and I've learned to call the hospital my new home. Every day I went through different tests since my mother didn't believe that it was lung cancer. She told me that no one could diagnose cancer that quick and I guess it was sensible but with each result came the same illness: Cancer. I gave up hope and refused to take anymore treatment. Chemotherapy and radiation were just too much for me and what's worse is that I wasn't getting any better.

Most of my friends came to visit but none of them ever got me to really fight my way out of the mess that I was in. All my life I wondered when my death would come and I never suspected it to be this early but now that it was here, I wasn't afraid of it.

When I woke up on my hospital bed the next morning, I was feeling a tad bit better but being in a room filled with machines hooked to my body just brought down the energy I had in me. I sat up on my bed and looked outside the window. It was raining hard. My mother was nowhere to be found. I was completely alone.

"Knock, knock," I heard a familiar voice call out from the door. I looked the side and smiled when I saw John and his friends come in.

Kennedy, Garrett, Jared and Pat came in and attacked me with hugs. They all had such wonderful smiles on their faces and I was just so happy to be around them. I haven't had that many smiles since the day John and I went to the arcade and it's been a week since then.

"Hey guys," I said in a whisper. My voice sounded really horrible now. I sounded so hoarse whenever I'd talk and when my friends came in and tried to get me talking, they cringed whenever they heard my voice.

"Guess what happened today," Pat said with the biggest grin on his face. He was practically jumping up and down the bed with excitement.

"What?" I asked with just enough voice to make myself be heard.

"We got signed today!" Garrett said tackling me with another hug.

I fell back down on my pillow and hugged all of them together – except John. He was just standing by my bed – leaning against a cabinet.

"What's up with you?" I mouthed to him as everyone pulled away from me.

"It's nothing," he said.

I looked the boys right in front of me and they just shrugged. "We'll, uh, give you two some privacy," Kennedy mentioned and they filed out of the room.

I motioned for John to come over and I gave him the tightest hug I could handle but it was probably not that strong at all. He sat by on my bed facing me but he wasn't looking at me. He had his head down, looking at the sheets.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked scooting over closer to him and placing a hand on top of his.

"I don't want you sick anymore," he said, reminding me of a little boy.

"John, we both know that it doesn't work that way," I said with a smile as I played with his hair.

"But I heard that you're not receiving any treatment," he said calmly but with so much anger in his eyes.

"I don't take the treatment because it doesn't do any good. Either way, I'm still going to-"

"Don't say it! Don't you dare say it, Aubrey." He turned away and bit his lip as held back the tears that wanted to rush out of his lids.

"John, I'll only be prolonging the agony. I don't want to see you like this. I want you to be happy," I said placing a hand on his cheek to make him face me.

"The only time I'm happy is when I'm asleep and dreaming because when I see you in my dreams, you're healthy and happy. We're always just singing songs and making music like we always used to." He swallowed hard. I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. I knew he was afraid. I was too, but not for me. I was afraid because I was leaving John's life and I didn't know how he was going to deal with it. Moving away from the house next to his to a few blocks away was hard enough.

"Oh, Johnny," I said wrapping my arms around him. "You should know by now that the only dreams that matter are the ones you have when you're awake and right now you're pretty much living your dream."

"But it's not enough because I don't get to share it with you," he whispered into my ear. His breath on me felt different. I didn't want to have to say this but it felt kinda sexy.

I pulled away from him slowly as I looked into those hazel eyes that took me in the first day I saw them. I smiled at him before completely moving away from him but he didn't give me the chance to get really far. He connected our lips in a split second and for a moment, I just got lost in transition.

"John, I really wish you hadn't done that," I said immediately breaking the kiss apart even if I really didn't want to.

"Aubrey, I want you to understand why I don't want you gone. And when I say that, I don't just mean because you're my best friend. I love you as more than that and I can't stand losing you. I don't know why I'm only telling you now that it's all slowly falling apart – and I feel really stupid for waiting this long – but I mean every word and I don't want you going anywhere knowing that you will never ever come back."

Tears ran down my voice like waterfalls. I felt like he just dropped a thousand-pound boulder on my shoulders. What in the world was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to tell him not to feel those feelings for me? How was I supposed to say goodbye when the time came for me to go?

"John, I can't do this with y-you. I j-just c-c-can't." My breathing started to get harsher and harsher as each millisecond ticked by.

"Aubrey, I need you to breathe, please, just inhale and-"

But I couldn't hear what he said next. I was cut from reality by a darkness that consumed me. I thought that was it but I fought hard to make my lungs work again. I couldn't just leave it like that with John. There was so much more that I wanted to tell him. Things like: I loved him more than he could ever imagine and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But saying those things would only hold him back.

How did a few sentences change all the thoughts in my head? How did living my life become so significant all of a sudden? Why was I even fighting to stay alive right now?


	4. Chapter 4

I felt a hand grip mine tightly as my eyes started to flutter. I cleared my throat to clear my airway but that did no good. It only added to the pain I was feeling. I looked to my left to see whose hand was holding mine and I smiled when I realized that it was John. I guess he meant what he said about not wanting to let go of me.

I slowly tried to take my hand away from his but I was afraid to wake him. He looked so cute with his mouth open. Sure, he snored a bit but it wasn't that loud. It reminded me of how we used to spend the night together in our backyard when we camped out. Those nights were probably the best moments of my life. I never thought that we'd eventually move to some high-end compound where almost every other person was a snobby bitch or a spoiled brat. I hated the compound we lived in. We might've had a bigger house but I missed the old one. The one I called my real home.

Once John loosened his grip just a bit, I retrieved my hand and grabbed the notebook and pen I left at the side of my table. I brought this notebook here so that I could write messages to all the people I knew so that if ever we ended the day on a bad note, this note would eventually turn the day upside down. I've already made the simple ones for my friends. I wrote one for my sister and my mother – which wasn't that long – but the only person I hadn't written to was John. The reason was simple. I didn't know what to say to him to make my exit from this world okay.

I've tried to write a few words but I always ended up tearing it up or crushing the words out. The words I wanted to say couldn't be written. I knew that deep down, I had to say them to him but I was afraid. I didn't want him to regret things that he hadn't done while I was still alive and I didn't want to regret not following what my heart thought was right. But if I didn't write anything for John, I'd regret that too.

I checked the time and date on the digital clock on my bedside table and saw that it had been a week since I was last conscious. So much for actually trying to make the most of what I had left. I smirked as I realized that the next time I would go unconscious might be it for me. I wasn't sadistic or anything. It just made me realize that I had to write this and I had to write it now.

Having a time limit on my life gave me enough motivation to write an inspirational message and luckily, I finished it right before John got up.

"What's that?" he asked as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

"Just a little journal," I lied knowing that he wouldn't touch it if it was something personal. Well, also maybe because I didn't want anything to go wrong between us.

"You must be hungry," he said changing the subject and getting up. "I brought you something to fill your stomach with."

It was about one in the afternoon. I wondered how long he'd been here so I asked him, "John, have you been here the whole week?"

"Yeah, I couldn't leave your side," he smirked as he grabbed a Chinese take-out box and a pair of chopsticks and handed it to me.

"You do know that you have a life, right?" I told him adjusting the incline of my bed.

"I'm fully aware of that. Actually, my life's revolving around you right now so me being here is pretty sensible," he told me with a smile as he scooted his chair closer to my bed.

"John, you know what I mean."

"If you don't want me here, you can say it to me frankly. But I know for a fact that you like my company so, here I am."

He stood up and sat on my bed and opened the box of food for me when he noticed that I had no intention of opening it up. To tell you the truth, I wasn't hungry at all. I was just tired.

I played with the chopsticks and placed it inside the box and grabbing a lot of noodles. I placed it into my mouth and smiled at him as I chewed it but I wanted nothing more than to spit it out. Swallowing this would be the hardest part. But I had to show John that I could do it.

"So how's 'signed life' going for you? Didn't you always want to be signed under a label?" I asked finally swallowing what I had in my mouth.

"It's going okay," he said as his smile faded.

"What's wrong?" I asked sitting up and placing the chopsticks inside the box.

"We're hitting the tomorrow and I don't know if we'll ever see each other again," he said getting in bed, right beside me.

"I guess waking up after a whole week of sleep was worth it," I said trying desperately to keep the conversation light. I was on the verge of breaking down into tears but I didn't want to cry for fear that my breaths will shorten and make me unconscious again.

I placed the box of food at the side and was glad that he didn't care if I finished it or not. He started to sing songs to me and right then and there, I wished for more time but it seemed like I didn't have any more. I was always tired all the time; I wheezed when I breathed; and, whenever I swallowed something, it felt like I was swallowing needles and knives. I was hopeless – a lost cause.

I found it hard to stay awake but I didn't let sleep take over fully. Once John finished singing another song, I twisted so that my face was facing his. This was the time to talk to him about what I felt.

"John, we have to talk about what happened last week," I stated.

He nodded and pulled me closer to him. I placed my head on his chest and listened to his heart drum to a certain beat. He placed his arm around me and held me tight.

"I never really had the guts to tell you in person because I thought I was out of your league," he started to say making me laugh. "I'm serious. I thought you liked the kind of guys who could offer you the world with the snap of his fingers."

"I don't need the whole world, Mr. O'Callaghan. Actually, my type of guy loves music just as much as I do, has a charming smile, has beautiful hazel green eyes and is there for me all the time. I don't want a guy who has everything at the palm of his hand but doesn't know how to love someone as affectionately as my type of guy would. And plus, I'm not high maintenance at all. I'd even date a hobo if that were possible," I ranted making John laugh.

"I think I know who you're talking about," he said placing me back on the pillow. He leaned on his elbow so he could face me with no problem at all.

"Really? Who do you think I'm talking about?"

"I think you're talking about…" he trailed as he leaned in for a kiss, "that guy over there!"

I looked at where he pointed and saw an old man in a wheel chair. I hit him hard in the chest as he and I laughed like two crazy kids. But that's just what we were. Two crazy kids in love.

"You're such an ass," I said looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm not sure the ceiling deserved that. You wouldn't want him crashing down on you, would you?" I turned to my side and giggled into his chest.

A few seconds later, I found his hand under my chin, raising it up so that our lips could meet. I smiled as he kissed me and made sure that nothing could ever break us apart.

At this point in my life, every thought in me had changed. I wanted nothing more than to live life knowing that he was right here with me. He was here when I needed him most and I was glad that he never went away without saying goodbye.

The afternoon that was filled with talking soon turned into a warm and satisfying night. But it wasn't long before the doctor told him that he had to go since she wanted to speak to me alone. The goodbye was a pretty long process but at least we got to tell each other about how we both felt. He was heading out to tour tomorrow and I was determined to see him when he got back. I was willing to fight for my life now.

"Aubrey, I'm afraid we have some bad news," the doctor said.

I held onto my sheets as I asked her what it was about. Wasn't she supposed to be telling these things to my mother? I didn't need bad news. It always made me want to just give up.

"I guess you haven't really heard but your mother left for New York a few days ago. She said she'd be back today but she hasn't come in yet and we tried her cell but we couldn't reach her."

"What's this about?" I asked resenting my mother for not even finding the time to be here while I was at a crucial stage.

"Okay, so bad news is that you're not getting any better, Aubrey. The chemotherapy isn't working as well as it should," she mentioned.

My breath hitched as I thought about John and how we were supposed to live together when there was no hope of me living at all.

"S-so what else is there to do?" I asked holding back the tears.

"The only thing we can do is continue the radiation to ease the coughing and the chest pain. Other than that, we have pain medications to stop the brain metastasis that you've been complaining about."

"So basically, this is still my last week alive?" I looked up the doctor who was already breaking at the seams.

She took a deep breath as she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Is there anything else you'd want me to do for you?"

"Well, this notebook here is filled with letters. So I might need some envelopes," I told her and she rushed outside my room to get it.

She came back a minute later with a new pack of envelopes and handed them to me. She sat beside me as we talked about my life. I told her my story and about John and I was glad I didn't have to spend the rest of the night alone. I don't know what I would've done.

Once I sealed each envelope, I asked her very nicely if she could mail them for me and she told me that she'd be happy to. But just as I handed her the letters, my heart started throbbing and my body started to get out of control. I was thrashing around my bed. My head ached to no end and my breathing had started to become shorter and shorter. I blinked twice before my eyes completely shut. And then, I was out just like a switch. My life ended here.


	5. Chapter 5

{JOHN'S POV}

***3 Months Later***

Tour, to my surprise, was pretty awesome. I kept a day-to-date journal about everything that happened in hopes that when I returned, Aubrey would be able to read it. I wondered about how she was and how she was dealing with her condition. I didn't believe that she'd pass away after the week I left. She was too strong for that. She was the most stubborn person I knew and there was no way she was letting death come over her.

The bus stopped at my house after a few more minutes. The rest of the guys had already been dropped off and this was the final stop.

"Thanks for the ride," I told the bus driver as I hopped off and watched him go away.

I was too excited to see Aubrey. It had been a long and hard journey without her and I was dying to know how she was feeling. Before I left, the doctor had told me that she'd been feeling better and I knew that that was only the beginning of it. Well, I wasn't really certain but I had a feeling. I really great feeling that we'd be together for the rest of our lives.

I walked past the mailbox and noticed that I had some mail. I simply switched hands and made the left carry my bag as I grabbed all the stuff from the mailbox. There were a bunch of letters from fans but there was one with a different envelope. It was one from the hospital that Aubrey had been staying in.

There was big heart in front with my name on it and I smiled as I ran a finger on it. I climbed the porch in a rush as I grabbed my house key from my pocket. Once I opened the door, I quickly got inside and literally ran into the living room. I placed my bag on the floor and the other letters on the coffee table eager to read what was written in the envelope that Aubrey had sent.

I smiled as I opened up the envelope – tearing it up here and there – and flipped open the flaps of the paper she had written on.

I just looked at the words on the paper and loved how her handwriting had grown through the years. I looked at the very top and saw that she had written this on the day I told her I was leaving for tour. I smiled as I remembered every detail of that very day.

I didn't delay it any longer. I started to read from the very top.

_Dear John, _

_ God, that reminds me of that Amanda Seyfried movie I asked you to watch about a thousand times. Remember when you refused to watch it because the title sounded weird to you? We laughed for hours. But I guess it's not time for fun and games because if you're reading this letter, that must mean that I'm in an extensive coma or I'm stuck six feet under the ground right next to my father. You didn't think I'd leave without saying goodbye for real, did you? But don't you lose that charming smile of yours. The world needs to see that wonderful smile. I know I would because I practically sigh in adoration inside as I watch your lips curve up the way they do when you show me that you're happy. _

_ Anyway, I need you to know that even if I'm gone, life will go on and I want you to live it to the fullest with each passing day. Do crazy things and stay true to yourself. Change only for the better, John. But I don't think you'd need to since you're practically amazing just the way you are. (Sorry, I heard that song a week ago and I never really got around to forgetting the lyrics. Ha-ha.) I want you to stay the same no matter what because being someone else might destroy you and everything you've worked so hard for in your life. _

_Wait, I just read everything I wrote and I'm not sure I'm making any sense. Am I making sense to you, John? I hope I am because I want this letter to be full of sense and meaning. I hope you don't throw it in the trash after reading. Not that I'd know but, whatever. _

_ So as I'm writing this, I'm actually watching you sleep. And you know what? You have developed a very cute snore. I wish I could hear it day in and day out but due to time constraint, I can't. Can you believe I'm being really perky about this? I know it's weird; it's scaring the shit out of me too. But basically, I have nothing to say to make things better. I mean when I imagine you reading this, I always see tears forming and the sides of the paper crumpling. Are you on the verge of shedding this paper in shreds? I hope not. I mean, I want you to read through everything I've written down here because I worked my ass off just to write this to you. Just kidding. _

_ John, I want you to remind you to listen to your heart more than your head. Your heart knows what's real and right that's why you have to pay attention to what it says and who knows, maybe it'll set you free one day. It would probably have said that you were meant for someone better than what I could've been and that you two would run away together happily and maybe, in time, make a family. I could already see little boys and girls running around your home just laughing and being kids. I wish I could be there to see you have many more firsts but unfortunately, time didn't allow me. Maybe it's saying that I'm a hindrance to you and that's why it wanted me far, far away. I don't know anymore. I'm confused as it is._

_ You know, my mother always said that what I had with you – our friendship – was just a phase in my life that I should've forgotten. Should I have listened to her, John? So I could relieve you of the pain that might be crawling up your skin right about now? But if I did end up forgetting about you, who would I have? I would've had no one left to care for me. You were always there for me, John. And for that, I'm forever indebted to you. _

_ I want to thank you for all the memories that we've shared and for the times where you taught me to be who I am now. I want to thank you for staying with me through this really rough patch and for not being like the others who came once and left the next day. I want you to know that in some way, life will reward you. I don't know how yet but I'm sure you'll find out soon. _

_ You will be in my heart forevermore, John O'Callaghan. And hopefully, you'll get through this and face life as a great challenge that you'll always be willing to accept. Promise me that you'll never throw your life away and that you'll always live to chase and follow your dreams. Remember when I told you that the only dreams that counted are the ones you had while you were awake? I mean that and I want you to always keep that in mind because I won't be here to remind you. _

_ I wish you the best and always know that I love you. _

_ Sincerely,  
Aubrey_

I read it over and over trying to process the whole thing. I didn't know how to deal with the anger I felt but something in me told me that it was worthless to blow up and throw things around the room. So instead of going ballistic, I opened up my guitar case that contained my acoustic guitar and grabbed a pen and the notepad I kept in the drawer of the table beside the couch.

For about an hour and a half, I wrote a song that conjured up every emotion I was feeling at the moment. Once I deemed myself to be ready, I got up, placed the guitar back in its case and placed the lyrics in my pocket. I made my way to the foyer and retrieved the keys before heading out of my house to my car. I placed the guitar in the passenger's seat before driving to the only cemetery I knew was in town.

I didn't know why I was doing this but for some reason, I needed to tell Aubrey these things. So once I got to the cemetery, I brought my guitar to where her father's grave was, knowing that she'd land right beside him. I observed the grave and saw that the grass over the soil where her corpse now laid had grown fully. I sat on the dirt right in front of her grave stone and read the information that was written on it.

"So I guess this is where forever ends for us, huh?" I said reaching for my guitar. "But I just want you to know that you can count on me to fulfil the promises you asked me to make. I can't say I'll do them whole-heartedly though but I'll try my best to. Anyway, here's a song I wrote for you. I hope you like it."

And with that, I started strumming the familiar chords that had been ringing in my ears since about an hour ago. The song was called Listen to Your Heart and I only wish I wrote this sooner so she could hear me sing it to her.

_"We're too young, this is never gonna work"__  
__That's what they say, "you're gonna get hurt"__  
__But I know something they don't.__  
__I hear your heart; it's beating right in time.__  
__Right from the start I knew I had to make you mine, __  
__And now I'll never let you go.__  
__Don't they know that love won't lie?___

_Don't listen to the world, they say we're never gonna make it.__  
__Don't listen to your friends; they would've never let us start.__  
__Don't listen to the voices in your head, __  
__Listen to your heart.___

_This promise doesn't have to be so loud, __  
__Just whisper I could find you in a crowd.__  
__I think it's time we ran away.__  
__Your father says I'm not good enough for you.__  
__Your mother she thinks that this is just a phase, __  
__I think that we should run away.___

_Don't listen to the world, they say we're never gonna make it.__  
__Don't listen to your friends; they would've never let us start.__  
__Don't listen to the voices in your head, __  
__Listen to your heart.___

_You gotta listen to your heart.__  
__Go on and listen to your heart.__  
__Come on and listen to your heart.__  
__It will tell the truth, __  
__It will set you free, __  
__It will say that you were meant for me, __  
__And this is where we're supposed to be.__  
__Yeah!___

_Don't listen to the world, they say we're never gonna make it, __  
__But I know we'll make it.__  
__Don't listen to your friends; they would've never let us start.__  
__Don't listen to the voices in your head, __  
__Love will never ever let us fall apart, __  
__you gotta listen to your heart.__  
__Go on and listen to your heart.__  
__You've gotta listen to your heart.__  
__Come on and listen to your heart.__  
__Listen to your heart. _

I let the tears fall freely as I mourned for her. Who knew how long the hurt would last? I surely didn't but I knew that life had to go on no matter what and I wasn't to throw it away. I had to bring to life her last wishes and nothing was going to stop me from doing it.


End file.
